


The Oppressed

by ephona



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephona/pseuds/ephona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Oppressed are a small yet tenacious vigilante group against the mafia that has 'oppressed' them in the past.  When the higher ups of this organization get closer and closer to the Vongola, Tsuna finds himself in a tight situation; deciding if the people he loves should live or die</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forty-eight Hours

Those who are less fortunate never choose it.  I never chose this curse.  I cannot remember any parents or relatives or siblings.  It was always just me.  Me and the stars.  Even with my mission, my purpose, I wasn’t fortunate.  I was hunted, stalked, taken advantage of, abandoned, lost, alone . . .

By them.  All of them.  All those I’d help.  Those who seemed nice. Those who were weaker than others.  Those who took me in with a promise of kindness and a place to stay.  All of them.  I learned a word from the stars to describe my plight.

Oppressed. I was oppressed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Oppressed.  A small, secret group of rumored outcasts bound together with the same purpose; to destroy their oppressors.  A group of vigilantes against the underground world that rejected and hurt them, the Mafia.  They are the underground of the underground world.  As time went on, the rumors about this small yet influential group kept growing.  A skirmish here, a sighting here, a note left there.  The most recent was a series of lynchings near the border of the Vatican in Italy where three bodies of three men belonging to the Cavallone family were left blowing in the wind with a cryptic note in Italian and Japanese.  ‘The Ikiryo seeks the eye.  The eye of malocchio.’

That was a week ago.  Dino’s been searching the outskirts around the Vatican like a wild stallion, his anger controlled but seething.  Now, the Oppressed is becoming more of a threat to the Mafia world.  My family and allies in particular.  The Shimon family, a close ally of mine, was asked to join the Oppressed by one of their high-ranking officers.  Though the Shimon boss, Enma, refused, they were unable to get any information out of the man before he fled and committed suicide.  It was obvious from the beginning that this small, hidden group was going to be a huge problem.

Now, as I stare at the monitor, I realize how much of a problem they are to the Vongola.  Their hidden faces look like that of bandits.  They hold weak arms steady with rough hands as a gun is pressed to their captive’s head.  Their captive is blindfolded, unable to see his captor and who is looking back at them with baited breath.  Especially me.  Of all my family, they had to prey and kidnap the only person unable to properly defend himself.  My surrogate brother, Fuuta De La Stella.

“Tsuna-nii!” Fuuta’s terrified voice rang over the static-filled transmission, tears beginning to leak out from behind the blindfold.  The room, where we had previously been holding a meeting, grew silent and a cold chill climbed up everyone’s spine.  Lambo stood up out of his chair, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“F-FUUTA!”

“L-Lambo? Lambo-nii—“ His words were cut off as the person holding the gun pressed it harder into his skull. 

“Quiet.  It’s not your turn to talk, boy.”

“What a surprise.” I tried to keep my voice level and emotionless as I stared up at the scene hacked into one of my own screens.  “The Oppressed finally decided to show their cowardly faces.”

“We’re not here to hear your remarks, Vongola.” The captor not holding the gun spoke up, a male voice coming from him.  He let go of Fuuta’s left arm which he was holding to keep him from struggling too much and came closer to the camera broadcasting to them.  “As you can see, one of your subordinates is in our hands.”

“Why?  Why Fuuta?”

“Quick to the chase.  As expected from the great Vongola Tenth.”  The man folded his pale arms and stared down at me.  “Tell your engineers to stop trying to track our signal and I’ll tell you.”

So that’s how they wanted to play this game.  I turned to Giannini who was in the corner typing away furiously on his laptop.  “Stop, Giannini.”

“But Boss—“

“That’s an order.”  I looked back at the screen, my eyes fixed on Fuuta’s teary face.  “Well? I’ve done as you’ve asked.  You better not be demanding anything else.”

The man chuckled a bit. “Vongola, we have one of your subordinates at gunpoint.  Why are you so calm?  Are you, the great Vongola Tenth, willing to see him die?”

“Answer my question.  Why do you have him?  Or do you want me to tell you myself?”

They seemed a bit shocked that I had just declared that I knew what they were going to tell me.  It was really just a clever bluff on my part.  I could only suspect what they wanted.  Money, fame, attention . . . maybe they even wanted me dead in exchange for Fuuta.  Still, it was enough shock for them to finally stop messing around.

“Very well then.  As you’ve so cleverly figured out, we are The Oppressed.  And I’m sure you’ve heard about us from your little friend Dino Cavallone.  Now, it’s your turn Vongola.  Only this time, let’s play a game.”

“Last time someone tried to play a game with me, they ended up getting sent to the Vindicade Prison.”

“Well, you can’t risk not playing this game, can you?” The gun cocked as it rested on Fuuta’s temple.  Lambo let out a whimper about the same time Fuuta did.  “We’ve already got a hostage to use as a bargaining chip.”

“Well, go on, what game do you want to play?”

“J-Juudaime—“ One quick look at Gokudera and he was silent.  This wasn’t about me.  All I could think about was Fuuta.  I had to save Fuuta somehow. 

The man from The Oppressed stared at me straight through the screen.  “Hide and Seek.  Right now, this broadcast is being held from one of our hidden bases in Japan.  It’s your only hope of rescuing your subordinate.  Come and find us and take him back.”

“Sounds simple enough. Where’s the catch?”

There was a low growl of frustration.  “Forty-eight hours.  You have a total of forty-eight hours from the time this broadcast ends to find us or we will publically throw his corpse out onto the streets of Sapporo for everyone to see.”

“Why are you doing this!?” Those weren’t my words.  I glanced back to see that Gokudera had lept out of his seat.  “Why are you doing this you damn cowards? What did we ever do to you!? When has the Vongola ever hurt people like you?”

There was a brief silence accompanied by Yamamoto grunting and shaking his head in disappointment at the Storm Guardian.  Static came over the screen again as the man began to chuckle lightheartedly and pulled the bandana off his face.  “In the past, quite a bit.  Along with many others who do not care about the Vongola as you say it is now.  The Vongola still created terror for not only those who had nothing to do with the Mafia but also those who were part of it.”  As he revealed himself, I found myself searching deep within my memories to find a name for this face.  Todd.  Paulo Todd of the Todd Familigila.  It had been over ten years since I’d seen him face to face.  And last time I had seen him, he was chasing after the very thing they now had in their hands, Fuuta. 

“Do you remember me, Tsuna?” There was a gleam of playfulness in his eyes. 

I wanted the conversation to end.  There was too much about this situation I could handle at one time.  I stared at Fuuta’s frightened face as he, too, realized he was being held down from one of the Families that tried to capture him for his rare power in the past.  But, what was I to do with his very life at stake?  I took in a deep breath in my mind before speaking again.  “I accept your little game.” I could feel the atmosphere around me crumble as I said that.  “We will find you.  Mark my words, this will be the last crime The Oppressed will ever commit against the Vongola and its allied partners.” I watched him smile before continuing.  “But, if we come and find Fuuta dead before the deadline specified, no one will ever hear about you ever again.  I won’t let the Vindice take you if that’s the case.  I’ll kill you myself.”

“Very well, Vongola.” Paulo took a step back to place a dirty finger on Fuuta’s cheek.  “Forty-eight hours.  Come and find us, Sawada Tsunayoshi.” The screen went black with a staticy blip.  The cold air hung in the room for at least a minute before someone spoke up.

“So is the meeting over?” Hibari had said with a bored tone in his voice.

“F-fuck you! D-didn’t you hear any of that!?”

“I did.  Doesn’t seem like my problem though.”

“He’s part of the Vongola! It’s completely your problem!”

“Stop yelling you’re loud.”

“Stop it.” Both Hibari and Gokudera turned to me as I spoke up again.  “Yes, the meeting is over.  Plans have changed.  We’re putting all of our efforts into finding Fuuta and The Oppressed.”

“But it could be a trap!” Yamamoto piped up.  “Tsuna . . . this isn’t a good idea!”

“And it could extremely backfire on us!”

“W-we can’t find where they are because I don’t know where they were broadcasting from!”

“Y-yeah! It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” It was simpler than it seemed.  Forty-eight hours was plenty of time.  Twelve hours would have been plenty of time.  There was just more to this than finding Fuuta and the vigilantes.  Much more.

“Something’s off about all of this.  I got a letter two months ago that the man who I just spoke to, Paulo Todd, is dead.  He died during the first known skirmish from The Oppressed.”

 

 


	2. Malocchio

“What do you mean ‘something’s off’?” Gokudera kept yapping as he followed me down to the lowest basement of the Vongola base, acting more like a puppy than my right hand man.  “Obviously something’s off!  Not only if Fuuta their fucking hostage but they somehow got our signal and hacked into our computer systems without us even knowing!  Do you realize how strange that is?  Until now, no one, _no one_ , has been able to directly contact them!  Something is more than just off!”

“I realize that.  But there’s more than just that.  Remember what I said about Paulo Todd?”

He scratched his head as we began to walk down one of the hallways towards the boiler room.  “Yeah but I don’t get it.  You said he was killed in a skirmish?”

“Yes.”

“But he was on the screen!”

“Exactly.” I placed my right palm gently on the door to the boiler room.  “So either he cleverly faked his own death in front of his subordinates or there’s something larger.”

“Like what?”

“Still trying to figure that out.  But first thing’s first.” The door to the boiler room was always unlocked.  With a turn of the doorknob, anyone with access to the bottom floor could enter with ease.  There were a few rickety metal steps leading down to the grounded floor where large pieces of machinery, water heaters, furnaces, bellows and other strange mechanical devices, sat in perfect condition.  Pipes squiggled their way up into the ceiling of the room to disperse throughout the base the elements needed to keep them warm, safe and functioning.  It was also a place where he spent all his time.  On an unoccupied spot on the floor in the far, right corner of the room, one could hear a faint humming noise and sounds of tinkering hands.  Sparks flew as he began to weld a piece of metal into place with nothing but his eye goggles and a face shield to protect him from the flying slugs of hot metal.  Another humming tune started up again as he finished his task, removed his face shield and goggles and placed his welding tool on his leg. 

“Ah, is that you Tsuna?” His eyes didn’t even drift from his work as he spoke, a lollipop stuck in between his teeth.  “Odd.  Usually, if you need me, you call me on the radio.  It’s rare you come down here at all.  Something up?”

Nothing fazed him.   Ever since we officially met in this era, I learned that he was the least likely to be taken back by a ‘surprise’ or something of that nature.  I watched him take the welding tool in his gloved hand again and place it on the joint he was melting together.  “Yes, Spanner.  I got some urgent tasks for you.”

“How urgent?  I really hoped to get this done before sunset.”

“We’ve just been contacted by The Oppressed.”

“ . . . ya don’t say?” Spanner ceased welding and craned his neck back, a slightly wide-eyed expression on his face.  “They contacted you?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you hear?”

He shook his head, flashing his wristwatch monitor at Gokudera.  “Been silent the whole day.  Not even a message about the meeting you guys were apparently having upstairs I wasn’t invited to.” I felt a lump form in my throat just hearing the underhanded blow at me.  “Does someone not trust me enough to join the Familigila in covert affairs or something?”

“Why you—“

“I’m sorry, Spanner.  I’ll explain why later.  But this is important.” He was right about my trust towards him being thin.  But I trusted him enough to know what he was doing with the mechanics that he had built himself.  “I need you to access the data codes from the main computer.”

“To track the signal, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Wait!” Gokudera burst into the conversation again.  “But I thought you told Giannini to stop tracking their signal as soon as they asked!”

“I did.  But, ever since Giannini told me Byakuran hacked into the system to send messages, I’ve been working with Spanner to create a backup for situations like this.”

“Yep.” Spanner fully turned to us, still sitting on the ground with his legs still crossed.  “It’s a hard disk drive that takes any transmit code it detects and stores it in i’s memory for further emergency extraction if needed.  Course, that being said, I put it under a heavy encrypted code so only people like me could actually extract the data.” He grinned.  “That also helps it seem like we really didn’t track the actual code.  Just something to get passed, yknow, legal stuff.”

“. . . holy shit. Juudaime, this guy’s brilliant.”

“Now do you understand why I trust him?” I took a step forward to remove myself from Gokudera’s whispering lips.  “So how fast can you get the codes?”

“Let me finish up this task.  Then it’ll be about an hour for me to get the codes and get them unencrypted.”

“You’ll get an IP address right?”

“Roger.”

“Then, can you pinpoint where the IP address is located?”

Spanner scratched his head.  “That’ll take a little longer.  Do we know what part of the world they came from?”

“Japan.  But that’s all the information we have”

“Of course.” He let out a sigh.  “Well that’s gonna take me at least two hours at the least.  That gonna be enough time?”

“Plenty of time.  We have a forty-eight hour time limit.”

“ . . . huh?”

I explained to him the rest of the situation. About Fuuta being held hostage and the terms we’d pretty much been forced to agree on for his safety.  His face seemed to fall a bit as he heard about what The Oppressed had actually contacted us for.  “But time is on our side.  They think we don’t have a trace of their signal.  In six hours, I think we’ll have enough information to form an emergency battle plan.”

“Battle plan?”

“Nifty.” Spanner let out a chuckle and stood up, smiling from ear to ear.  He took his lollipop out of his mouth for a moment and looked me straight in the eyes.  “I’ll start getting that data ASAP.  The Mosca can wait for a bit.”

“Thank you, Spanner.”  He gestured a casual ‘you’re welcome’ before pushing his way past Gokudera and I down towards another section of the boiler room.  “Oh, right, Spanner, I have another question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“While you’re waiting for things to get encrypted and located, can you do some research into the Todd Familigila’s history?  They might be connected with The Oppressed.”

“No problem.  Just rest your little head, Vongola.  I can already tell by the way you’re talking that you’re a bit stressed out.  Go back upstairs.  Have some tea.  Calm down.  Even in the present, you got a nasty habit of worrying too much over people.  Take some time to take care of yourself.”  And with that, he was far into the maze of pipes and equipment.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Bruno!  What’s the report?”

_“Nothing, Boss!  The area is completely clear!  No suspicious persons or mafia personnel identifiable anywhere!”_

“Damnit!” A snarl escaped his throat as the message on his headset relayed into his ear.  “Are you saying we got another dead end!?”

“Yessir.”

“Goddamnit!”

“D-Dino-san, please watch your mouth.  We’re in The Vatican, after all.”

The piercing green eyes of Dino Cavallone, the tenth boss of the Cavallone family, shot a ferocious glare at the man standing next to him.  “I know that, Romario!  And you remember why we’re here right?”

Romario let out a sigh.  “Boss, please, calm down just a bit.  The problem is not going to be solved if you keep running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“How can I calm down?  T-they died! They died in front of the entire world!” The tension of Dino’s voice was more of that of someone trying to swallow tears and bitter hatred.  “Not only is this a problem for the Cavallone but everyone sided with us!  If the police get wind that they might be connected to a mafia organization . . .” He bit down hard on his bottom lip, stopping himself from saying anything else.  Romario’s serious yet compassionate expression was enough.  He was right.  Nothing was going to happen if he stood here in hysterics like a madman.  But then what?  They’d exhausted all of their information.  No underground facilities, no abandoned sites nearby where the perpetrators could be hiding, not even a recent crime other than the lynching of his own men.  The Oppressed had to be hiding somewhere or at least had left a better clue than a few corpses and a note.  He let a slow breath out of his mouth. 

“Well, what next then, Boss?”

“I’m not sure.” Admitting such a thing was embarrassing.  He reached his tattooed hand into his back pocket, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper found with the bodies.  Each word was written in Japanese characters except for one: ‘malocchio’.  Though he’d seen the word a few times in books, he couldn’t’ quite put his finger on why that was part of a note entirely comprised of Japanese.  _The Ikiryo seeks the eye.  The eye of malocchio.  Isn’t that just redundant? The eye of the Evil Eye?  What? Did a kid write this?_ He studied the characters closer, trying to figure out where he might have seen that handwriting before.  Suddenly, a loud noise filled his ears.  He jumped a bit, rushing to Romario’s side.  “W-what was—“

“Boss? It’s your phone.”

“O-oh.” He fumbled his hand around in his left pocket, fishing out his buzzing and loudly ringing phone.  _Why would he be calling at a time like this?_   “Hello? Dino speaking.  What is it, Tsuna?  Hm? Oh my . . . a-are you serious?  Fuuta?  Cute little Fuuta!?” There was a lengthy pause.  Dino’s angry eyes began to widen in curiosity and surprise.  “Wait . . . you mean you actually saw them!? Oh of course they were wearing masks.  Still . . . wait, Todd?” His face twisted into a confused look as he continued to converse with Tsuna over the phone.  “Yeah, I mean, I went to his funeral.  That is really fishy.  Yeah.  Yeah.  What?” He glanced back down at the paper in his hand.  “The note?  Yeah I think it’s a clue.  Oh, what does it say?  ‘The Ikiryo seeks the eye’.  You have any idea what an Ikiryo is?  Cause that’s what I can’t figure out.  There’s also a bit about the ‘eye of malocchio’ which is slang for the Evil Eye.”

There was a pause in their conversation.  “ . . . Tsuna, if there’s any other way I can help, please let me know.  I’m desperate here.  I don’t want anyone else to die like my men did.  Please . . . if you guys do go in by force to get Fuuta, I want to come along.  For the pride of the Cavallone.  . . . mmhmm.  Okay.  Yes, please, keep me updated.  Okay. Tell Kyoya I said hi.  Okay. Bye.”  Hanging up, he let out a long-winded sigh.  “Malocchio and The Oppressed, eh?  This fits into place _too_ perfectly.”


	3. Skirmish

Fingers flew over the black touch keys, clacking in a rhythmic fashion.  Number and letters appeared on screen in green pixelated characters.   A green ‘accepted’ flashed across the screen and Spanner moved the mouse cursor about to track the last communication operation recorded by the system.  He let out a groan.  Decoding was not his style.  Taking series of numbers and crunching them into something normal humans could understand was something he was good at and could do but not something he liked to do.  It was monotonous and without the creativity and ingenuity he loved to play with.  Building the computer system and the backup code system was much more worthwhile than actually using it.  But, other than Irie Shoichi, he was the only one who knew how to operate such a thing.

He bit into the hard candy of his lollipop, sighing a bit as he thought about Shoichi.  After Byakuran’s death in this timeline a few months ago and the confiscation of the Mare Rings, Shoichi had involuntarily been forced into the position of leading the Milliefiore Familigila.  He heard from the red-headed computer scientist on and off but not enough to keep up the same friendship he was used to.  A part of him hoped the Milliefiore would merge with the Vongola, mostly for Shoichi’s sake.  But since there was still high tensions from the Gesso and Gigolo Nero merging to even create the Milliefiore, it didn’t’ seem likely anytime soon.  Until then, Shoichi himself had ordered him to stay at the Vongola headquarters and help out Tsuna.  A boring job, really.

He let out another sigh as the IP address popped up on the screen in plain, uncoded form.  The stream of numbers on the screen caused him to make a double-take.  Squinting and thinking, he typed in the code to search for the location of the IP.  _I swear . . ._ Usually, the process to find the code took at least ten minutes if it was a location outside of the city.  Within minutes, the exact longitude and latitude of the IP flashed across the screen.  Spanner paused, took in a deep breath and froze.

“Son of a bitch . . .”

*~*~*~*~

“Another meeting, dear Tsuna?” The man’s signature ‘kufufu’ laugh resonated through the room.  “You must be desperate.”

“Mukuro-sama, please be polite.”

“Honestly it’s because he’s going to bite me to death if I call him for another meeting.” I shrugged my shoulders with a laugh, trying to act like this emergency gathering wasn’t a big deal but I could tell by both Lambo’s eyes and Chrome’s eyes that it wasn’t working very well.  “I don’t need him for this anyway.”

“You two in the same room would just cause problems.” Yamamoto’s composed laugh brought a hint of normalcy to the tension in the room.  “He’s still got a grudge on you, y’know!”

“We can discuss things like this later.” I spun on my heels, staring down at my Guardians and friends.  “We’ve been contacted by The Oppressed and one of our members, Fuuta, is being held hostage.  Not only do we have to get Fuuta back but this is the perfect opportunity to find and get rid of The Oppressed before they do more damage to the Mafia world.  This is more than just a rescue operation and not a laughing manner.  This is vital.” I guided myself into the large, leather swivel chair at the head of the table.  “Until now, no one has had any direct contact with The Oppressed that has gotten a lead in any information.  The closest we’ve gotten is the suicide bomber that tried to enlist the Shimon Familigila.  We need to do more than just rescue Fuuta.”

“Ah so this is a small skirmish as well? How exciting.” Mukuro smirked, kicking his feet up onto the table. 

Lambo raised his hand.  “S-so do you have a plan of how to do that?  I-I mean . . . how?”

“Spanner’s finding the broadcast location now through the hard memory of the main computer.  As soon as he gets it, we need to strike.  We don’t know how many people there are going to be but we have to prepare able people that can handle anything.”

“I’ll go, Juudaime!” I wasn’t the least bit surprised when Gokudera stood up with such energy from his chair.  “You can count on me!  I’ll be able to handle whatever comes my way!”

“Well if you want to, Gokudera.” I gave him a warm smile.  “Just know that I’ve decided that I’m going too.”

“Y-you are?”

“Yes.” My eyes drifted to a knot on the grain of the wood on the table.  “Fuuta is like my little brother.  I need to be there for him.  Also, I’d like to figure out firsthand what is going on with Paulo Todd, who is supposed to be dead.  I’m sure the leader of The Oppressed isn’t him or anyone we saw on that screen but he’s merely a puppet in his hands.  It’s either really Paulo Todd or an illusion of some sort.”

“But it might be dangerous!” Lambo cried out.  “What if this whole thing is a trap?  W-what if they purposefully got Fuuta so that you’d come?”

“That’s why I’m not going alone.  Or without help.”  I closed my eyes to think for awhile.  I needed someone who’d be strong enough to take on mass hoards of people and someone, other than Gokudera, who could stick to a plan well enough. The thought of the note found near the Vatican caused a spark in my mind instantly. Malocchilo . . . “Mukuro, Chrome, I’d like you two to come with Gokudera and I.”

“Okay, Boss.” Chrome crooned. 

“Lambo and everyone else, I need you to stay behind.  If we have to go overseas, we’ll take along some of you as backup.”

“You won’t have to go overseas.” A crackled voice came over the intercom.  In moments, his face was up on the screen. 

“Spanner! You got the information already?”

“Yeah.” His voice was a bit strained.  “I’m booting up the map to the screen right now.  You better prepare yourselves though.  It’s not what you’d expect.”

We all turned and watched the screen as, bit by bit, a map of the location where Fuuta and The Oppressed followers were located appeared.  I felt breath catch in my throat.  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the information in front of me.  It couldn’t be . . . how in the world did they manage it? 

“Is that—“

“Yep. It’s right under the far right side of the Vongola base.  Only a few miles away.”

More questions began to float through my head than answers.  For someone so dangerous to be so close to our main underground base was baffling.  We always knew what underground and mafia activity happened within a few mile radius of the entire town.  How did they manage to hide under our noses?  How long had they been there?  “Spanner!  Any information about the blueprints of the place?”

“Not sure but I got this!” A different, cheerier voice split the air.  Giannini’s face pushed its way onto the screen.  “The location is near where we started construction on the Vongola base years ago.  We dug out the area but because of residential areas and bad ground quality, we decided to relocate the base.”

“The probably dug out more of the area!”

I was in awe.  A lump formed in my throat and made its way down to my stomach.  The image of the lynched bodies of Dino’s former men flashed through my mind along with the other reports of the attacks and homicides The Oppressed had done over the last month or so.  “Giannini, Spanner, send the information immediately into the database and prepare four headsets.  Gokudera, Mukuro, Chrome, we’ll leave within ten minutes, understood.”

“Yessir!”

“I only ask one thing of you guys.  If they become a threat, you can kill them.  But capture as many as you can.  This is no longer just a small problem.  This is war.”


	4. SOS

Approaching the entrance, even an idiot could see that though The Oppressed was dangerous and elusive, they weren’t strong on resources or tactics.  An unguarded steel door met us at the end of a poorly reinforced dirt tunnel held up by wooden planks and I-beams.  A string of single, faint light bulbs lit the way in front of us.  The steel door’s only visible security defense was an electronic keypad lock on the doorknob.  It was surreal, almost. Mostly, it was just plain creepy.  I glanced back at my three guardians to make sure they were still in tow and alive. 

“Is this it?” Gokudera sounded more disappointed about the scene than I was.   “This is their hideout?”

“This is one of the back doors.” I kept my voice low.  “Still, though.  Even for a back door, you’d think they’d at least try to up the security.  Especially after contacting us.”

“Maybe they didn’t expect us to attack?”

I shook my head, eyes now fixed on the keypad lock.  “Don’t think this is going to be easy.  They’re still playing with us.  All of this is a game to them.  I bet they weren’t expecting us so early but they wouldn’t contact us with a hostage and just leave their doors unprotected.”  Another quick look around me confirmed my suspicions.  No cameras, no video feeds, not even a telltale hole or bulge in the dirt wall signifying a bug or a hidden sensor.  “They’re trying to make it more fun for them by not knowing when or where we’re going to strike.  They want us to break down this door.”  I thrusted my hand into my waistcoat, pulling out a drawstring leather pouch on a gold chain.  One fair, white pill fell from the pouch into my hand.  “Stand back.”

“J-Judaime! I can break down the door! I got enough dynamite here to—“

“There are guards behind this door.  And I know exactly where.” The pill slipped down my throat with a sight burn.  I felt the scorching sensation move from my esophagus into the tips of my fingers and the edges of my temples and turn into a warm energy I could feel like an extension of my own body.  “I told you, we’re to only kill them if they’re a threat.  As of now, they’re just waiting.  No need to kill them in cold blood.” The Sky Flames around me warmed the air and calmed my senses.  Yes, I could sense them.  I could sense the guards behind this crude door.  One, two, three, four . . . at least eight of them.  They all stood in a semicircle across the parameters of the door.  I aimed my right hand at a forty-five degree angle to the ground and began to pump the soft Flame out of my gauntlets.  I only needed a little bit of support.  I concentrated for a few more seconds, gauging the right place where my building burst would cause the least amount of damage to the guards around.  “Get ready.  Three . . . two . . . one . . . “

With one effortless blast, a plume of flames came flying out of my palms.  The impact of hot flames rapidly hitting the metal caused a gaping hole in the door.  Sure enough, guards stood behind the door, crude weapons like pipes, pitchforks and pistols in hand.  Red hot flying shrapnel was the only thing the men behind the door had to deal with from the blast.  One of them let out a surprised cry that alerted the small squadron.  The battle had begun.  I gave Gokudera a wink before whispering the words: “Vongola fight!”

Sirens blared.  One makeshift red alarm light flashed its color throughout the hallway.  The world became a blur in front of our eyes.  Flames poured out of my gloves, pulsing me forwards into the head of the small squadron.  One kick into a man’s nose sent blood splattering across his face and bits of bone and cartilage crunching under my sole.  Some of the squad members gathered around me as I landed, kicking the now unconscious man across the ground.  They yelled and swore at me, their voices like thunder, but I understood none of it.  There wasn’t the time to listen to petty words.  A wild swing to the right, the left, both perfectly placed so that each punch hit one either in the side of the head or in the back.  One lunged at me with a makeshift spear which I then grabbed and tossed to the ground before he even had the chance to aim properly.  One last kick in the gut sent the last of the guard squadron passed out on the ground.

“J-Juudaime! T-that was—“

“Please praise me later.  We got to move.  More are coming.” Lifting my hands up behind my back, I gave a smile back at Gokudera, Chrome and Mukuro.  “All right guys, let’s do this!”  With one thrust of Fiamma Voltage, I sped off down the long corridor towards the next squadron of rebels.  A good group of about five or six.  Compared to the numbers of soldiers I had fought before, this was nothing.  But what they lacked in numbers and advanced technology, they had in spirit.  Unlike the soldiers of the Milliefiore, these men and women had a different spirit of fighting pride to them I knew was just as dangerous.  Just one glance at their fierce eyes and tense stances was enough to prove this point to me.  Without landing, I grabbed one of them by their head, forcing them back into a nearby wall where they quietly slipped down unconscious.  One of them came at me with a sword, trying to lob off my feet before they even touched the ground.  The blade fell into my hands and I swatted it away, finishing them off with a flame-filled punch to the gut.  Hyper Intuition aided me as I tripped back one man while flipping out of the way of a woman’s deadly mace.  The moment I flew up into the air again, an explosion rang through my ears.  The smell of smoke and gunpowder filled the air along with a fierce battle cry.

“Eat this shit, you goddamned cowards!” Gokudera rushed out of the cloud of destructive dust, a playful smile on his face.  One I hadn’t seen him have in a while.  He kept running forward, his cigarette lit and smoldering.  With one swipe across that tiny surface of embers, he lit the next bomb; a gas bomb it looked like.  There was a loud boom as bits of shrapnel and a cloud of yellow dust exploded from the bomb he had thrown behind him.  Gokudera had protected himself from the blast with his System C.A.I shileds.  As bits of metal embedded themselves into the surface, he swerved up next to where I was flying. 

“These guys are nothing.  We got this in the bag.”

“Don’t get too reckless, Gokudera.  As I said, they’re only playing games.  Keep your head level.  We only have one goal here.”

“There is another hallway to our left.” Chrome caught up to us, her graceful figure leaping forward like a gazelle in motion.  “Boss, I’ll take that hallway.  I’m sure I’ll be able to fend off whomever I want to on my own.”

“Go ahead, Chrome.  Do your best.” The fork in the hallways came up and Chrome dashed down that corner as fast as she had reached us.  Just briefly, I saw as she came  up upon another small squad, mist flames oozing from underneath her dress and forming what looked like the wings of a white owl behind her.  A cry of pain and a thud sounded followed by a whacking noise.  I chuckled a bit.  “Damn, that girl is good.”

“Juudaime! Look out!”

Gokudera’s cry alerted me to a flashing object that was being thrown into the air right in front of me.  A quick pivot of my direction sent me flying into the wall just before the bang from the grenade went off.  Gokudera somersaulted across the damage spot next to me, sticks of dynamite lodged in between his fingers.  There was another explosion within Gokudera’s range, causing him to do a roll to the right side to avoid the grenade’s package.  With a forced cry, Gokudera threw his rocket propelled sticks of dynamite.  They sped through the air away from our gruella attacker, took a sharp turn back towards them and exploded the instant they touched human flesh.  Gokudera stood up, wiping the sweat and some blood off his forehead.  “Sorry, Juudaime.  There was no other option . . . “

“As long as we’re not slaughtering them in mass it’s fine.  I told you, this is war.  Though I’d like as little casualties as possible, death is inevitable.” I dusted powdered stone and dirt off my mantle, the horrific images of Dino’s men’s bodies entering my thoughts again.  “We’ve already lost some on our side.  It’s only acceptable that some of them pay for their crimes.” 

“There’s more coming.” Like a ghost, Mukuro slid up next to us, his indigo flames blazing from his right eye.  “You two can continue your childish talks later.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Rokudo.  Gokudera, you take this one!  Mukuro and I will go ahead and infiltrate further!  Understood?”

“Roger, Juudaime! I’ll make sure they don’t touch a hair on your head!”  Smirking, he pulled out more dynamite from inside of his sleeves, feet poised and ready as the next squadron of minions came around the corner.  Mukuro and I maneuvered swiftly around them, pushing a few out of our way as we hovered and side-stepped around them. 

The next stretch of simplistic, empty hallway stood in front of us.  This was nothing like the Vongola Base. It was all just a labyrinth probably made for the entertainment of the leader of The Oppressed.  The metal plates that made up the walls and the roof were put together so haphazardly, the thought crossed my mind of what would happen if there was suddenly a cave in.  Shaking the thought away, I heard Mukuro speak up.

“Now, we’re all alone, aren’t we?” The character in his eye changed from four back to his normal six character.  “I never got to ask you.  I wasn’t part of the original choice to go down here, wasn’t I?  You would have rather had the skylark.  Am I wrong?”

I shivered.  Ten years since I met Mukuro and he still never ceased to make me uncomfortable with his words.  How had he figured out so fast anyway?  “As always, you’re right.”

“So . . . why did you change your mind?”

I slowed down my speed and landed back onto my feet. “The riddle left at the scene in the Vatican.”

“Oh?  The one left by the bodies of Dino’s men?”

With a nod, I continued, “‘The Ikiryo seeks the eye.  The eye of malocchio.’  Dino said ‘malocchio’ means ‘evil eye’ in Italian.  And it’s also the same name as your Hell Ring.”

A smirk curled over his fine lips followed by his signature ‘kufufu’ laugh.  “You’re so predictable, Tsunayoshi.  So you think they want thing ring?” He lifted up his hand slowly, showing me the Hell Ring he wore on his ring finger.  The golden ring’s veined eyeball ornament stared back at me. 

“Possibly.  It’s something I’ve been thinking about.  I’m not sure though . . . that’s why I brought you along.  Besides, I knew you could fight as well as Hibari-san.”

“Hmph. So you admit it.” He laughed again.  “No one’s around still . . . next question then, Tsunayoshi.  You seem to have the second part of the riddle down, but what about the first part?  What exactly is the Ikiryo?”

“That’s the part I’m still clueless on.  I didn’t really grow up wanting to listen to monster stories and events of the supernatural so all I know is that it’s a mythical creature from Japanese folklore.  Spanner did some research and said it was very similar to a vengeful ghost but of a person who is still living.”

“Kufufu you mean like Chrome and I?”

“No.  But when you put it that way –“ My words were cut short by yet another explosion.  We both lept out of the way before any damage could be done to us.  A thick plume of black smoke revealed another squadron of The Oppressed rebels.  This one was larger; one of about fifteen or twenty all armed and angry.  The purity and intensity of my flames broadened and I began to lock on to one of the people as a target for the entire group when Mukuro’s slender hand touched my shoulder.

“Stay back.  I’ll get rid of them myself.”

“Mukuro—“

“Shh.” His devilish smile widened as his eye flashed into his First Path.  “I can’t let you have all the fun, Tsunayoshi.”  In one smooth movement, he pushed me backwards and seemingly soared towards the squadron on misty feet.  In all my years as Vongola Boss, I never had gotten to understand the illustrious Mukuro.  I turned my wrists again to the side and blasted upwards above the squadron watching as Mukuro created an illusionary bubble of death around the enemies, keeping me out of their sight.  I heard him say something to me through the illusion but I didn’t understand it.  I continued on my way down the hallway.  Just a few yards away, the hallway turned again and then stopped right in front of a large door ominously looming over it.  There wasn’t a doorknob or any sort of booby traps set around it.  There wasn’t a lock or any sort of other device blocking entrance from this side. 

This was a trap.  I had no doubt about it now. 

Landing in front of it, I felt a ping of fear come into my brain; fear that wasn’t my own.  The flames on my head strengthened into a plume large enough to maintain my Fiamma energy for the next few moments.  With steady hands and my mantle draped over my shoulders like a bulletproof vest, I pushed open the door.  It slid open as easily as I thought.  Inside was the same room I’d seen upon the transmission a few hours earlier.  The dank smell of cigar smoke and mold whiffed up into my nostrils.  The room was just as makeshift and dilapidated as the entire base.  Monitors stuck into the walls along with the camera used to transmit the images to us.  Two lightbulbs were the only lights other than the diodes and LED displays in the room.  My heart skipped a beat as I saw Fuuta to my right still blindfolded and handcuffed to what looked like a drainage pipe or something sticking out of the dirt walls.  But I knew Fuuta wasn’t the only person in this doomed room.

“Quicker than I expected, Vongola.”  A puff of palatable dark cigar smoke brushed my ears.  I dug my toes into the ground and swiveled around to see the supposed Paulo Todd face to face.

“You can release Fuuta now and I’ll show mercy on you and your men or you can continue this farce and I’ll release the full power of the Vongola upon you.”

“Do you really thing the game is over now that you found me?” He squashed the end of the cigar into the dirt wall and reached for a pistol sitting on a nearby steel table.  “You’ve found me, congratulations.  Now the next phase of the game starts.”  He cocked the gun and aimed it straight at my head.  Dark indigo flames began to seep from his hand into the pistol.

“Next, we’ll play Cops and Robbers.  Winner takes all.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambo tapped his fingers anxiously on the desk, his eyes fixed to the transmission screen.  The inside of his lip already hurt from him nibbling and sucking on it nervously.  Three wrappers that once contained grape candy were placed neatly on a pile next to him.  He kept humming, whining and swaying back and forth. 

“When are they coming back? Are they coming back? What if something happened?  What if Tsuna-nii and Gokudera are out there in trouble and we can’t hear them?  What if something got destroyed?”

“Lambo, calm down buddy.”

“Calm down? This is a dangerous situation!  We don’t even know what we’re up against!”

Yamamoto leaned back a bit more on his chair, switching feet as they lie relaxed up on the table.  “It’s Tsuna!  He’s beaten people that are probably way stronger than those guys.  And with Gokudera-kun, Chrome-chan and Mukuro, they’ll be perfectly fine!”

“I would be thinking that if I didn’t think this was a trap.  Like a really bad trap.”

“Tsuna can handle that too.” He gave Lambo a carefree wink.  “Don’t worry so much.  They’ll be fine.  And if they do need us, we’re a button push away!”

On cue, the transmitter screen in front of Lambo flashed red and began to beep rapidly.  Lambo let out a small shriek.  He adjusted his headset and turned on the receptor.

“T-Tsuna!”

“No.  Wrong.”

The screen under Lambo’s eyes switched from a flashing red to the image of someone.  Fresh burns and cuts covered his bare arms.  A vest-like garment exposed his chiseled chest.  One hand was resting on the metal of a makeshift wall next to him.  Intense black eyes bore through the screen.  The man seemed to be out of breath as he spoke into the camera.

“Lambo, remember me?”

“L-Lancia-san?”

“Lancia?” Yamamoto sprang out of his seat and squeezed next to Lambo, placing his own headset on, so he could see the screen.  “Oh my gosh, Lancia!”

“Yamamoto’s there too?  Well shit . . . “

“Lancia, where have you been?  We’ve been looking for you ever since the battle with the Milliefiore ended!  W-we thought you were dead!”

“Surprise, huh?” He let out a heavy pant, wiping sweat and blood off his dark brow.  “Listen, I don’t have time to talk about the past.  It’s only a matter of time before he realizes I hacked into the system and tried to contact you.”

“H-He?”

“I’m sorry, Yamamoto, Lambo.  Seems I fell for another crafty man’s trap.”

Yamamoto grasped the screen.  “What do you mean? Lancia! What’s going on? Where are you?  Who’s ‘he’?”

There was the sound of a crashing explosion in the background followed by a round of gunfire.  Lancia’s color drained from his face.  “Underground.  Where your other Guardians are; The Oppressed hideout.”

“W-what?”

“Listen, this is a ploy.  All of this!  You two need to head to the hideout immediately!  You don’t have time to waste!”  There was another round of gunfire followed by Lancia’s hoarse coughs at the dust particles flying around him.  “Sawada will need more than backup at this rate.  He’s already gone into the main chamber!”

“Lancia-san!” Lambo was the one who spoke up.  “We’ll come.  I promise!  Just let us know what we’re getting ourselves into!  W-what the hell is going on?”

With a defeated sigh, Lancia’s arm slumped to his side.  “Stubborn brats.  Fine.  This is the one minute version and I’m not going to repeat myself.”  He moved closer to the screen, favoring his left leg.  “I was tricked into joining this hellish group a few years before the Milliefiroe began giving the Vongola trouble.  I’ve been watched like a hawk by the leader of The Opressed, the mastermind behind all of this.  I know about the note.  I know about everything he’s planning to do.”  His arms drooped again from weakness. 

“He’s trying to kill Sawada.  His name is . . . “


	5. Oppressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((the author apologizes in advance for the crappy writing))

The alloy heads of the bullets neutralized as they hit the surface, one of them scraping him across the cheek.  _His bullets are real . . ._ The hard patter of metal on his Mantello was enough to alert him.  Even though they were coated in the dark Mist flames, they weren’t an illusion.  Paulo’s gaze locked on Tsuna again as he used up the sixth shot in his revolver.  Tsuna sprung forward on his toes, watching closely as Paulo reached into his pocket to get out another slew of bullets to shoot at him.  A flamed punch came flying at Fuuta’s captor’s face but didn’t follow through.  At the perfect moment, he’d ducked, rolling across the floor and creating an illusionary layer between him and the Vongola. 

 “You’re terrible at this game.” Tsuna spat, soaring towards him again (completely ignoring the illusion).  “I liked it better when I chose the game.”

“Don’t get cocky.” Paulo sneered.  He threw the revolver to the side and managed to get his body up onto the soles of his feet.  He threw the bullets he was trying to load into the other one up into the air and caught them in a short blast of indigo fire.  Flames conjured together to form another revolver in his hand with the bullets inside.  A split second after, another bullet came rushing towards Tsuna.  The metal projectile crashed into the monitor behind Tsuna, sending sparks and sputters out of the damaged screen.  Tsuna was at his side again, this time with a punch to his right side.  Anger began to burrow its way out of his soul and into his glowing eyes.  He caught the man before he could stand up again, grasping his collar and hoisting him upwards.  Tsuna’s other hand caught his right wrist and twisted it just enough so that the pain caused Paulo to lose concentration and cause his weak illusion to crumble.

“I don’t want to kill you yet.  But I’m getting close.  I’ll give you one last chance.”

Paulo grinned at him before disappearing in a cloud of dust. Behind him, he heard another gunshot.  Tsuna stood there stunned for a few moments.  How did he create an illusion so precise that he was able to fool him?  He’d seen so many of Mukuro’s illusions that basic mist-flame user’s attempts to fool him were nothing but a joke.  He winced as the bullet entered into his exposed calf, pain exploding along with the metal projectile.  Some sort of shrapnel, probably propelled by his Flames, had pushed itself up his leg.  He turned around quickly, giving off a small pulse of flames towards Paulo again. 

“Vongola, unless you plan to kill me, I don’t know if you’ll win this game.” He effortlessly avoided the blast and sent another exploding bullet towards Tsuna.  This time, his Mantello blocked it, sending the shrapnel flying outside of his flesh.  He heard Natsu’s tiny growls of pain.  _It’s okay buddy, you’re doing great_.  He flung his Mantello out of his way and placed his hands and fingers in a rectangle formation. 

“Zero Point Breakthrough: First Edition” At his command, Tsuna’s flames gushed out, turning into ice wall in front of his face.  At this moment, he knew that one of two things could happen.  He’d used this technique to try and figure out more about Paulo’s strange illusion before.  With the wall of ice in front of him, he would have to use his flames to burn through it.  But, he didn’t.  He did just the thing he wanted to confirm.  Paulo was behind him again, shooting with great accuracy and determination.  _He can use his flames to teleport_.  Blocking another exploding bullet, he used a bit of his Dying Will Flames to melt the ice he had just created. 

“Paulo, if you release Fuuta now, I’ll let you live.  If not, we’ll continue this.  Am I understood?”

“I won’t let go of your precious ‘brother’ until I can show him your corpse.”

“Fine.” He sprawled out both of his hands to his sides, grabbing the edge of his Mantello and closing his eyes.  “Cambio Forma.”  In a flash of bright Sky Flames and light, the mantle disappeared off his shoulders and turned into a shining, silver gauntlet on his hand.  “Mitena di Vongola Primo.”  He knew this was a bit of a risk.  Without the Mantello protecting him, a well-aimed bullet could easily cause him pain and possibly death if it hit him in the right area of the chest.  It was a risk he knew he could afford to take.  He wound up his arm, glowing eyes focused solely on Fuuta’s captor.  All the flame energy he had begun to transfer from the pockets in his bloodstream into the gauntlet.  In those few moments, the world seemed to slow down for him as he watched Paulo aim and shoot another bullet right at his torso.  With one deep breath, he lunged forward, avoiding the bullet with one swift movement, and barreled his armored hand right into Paulo.  _Big Bang Axle!_   The crunch against the metal rang in his ears as all the power he had stored up was released.  Paulo went flying into the crude wall, a dust cloud stopping his impact.  Tsuna sprinted towards his body and placed his hand over his neck again.    “I win.” He put the other hand on his neck and twisted it, snapping his neck instantly. 

That’s when Tsuna knew something else was horribly wrong.

He was sure he had felt bones snap in his hands; it was an unmistakable sound.  But, instead of Paulo Todd’s wrangled and battered body, Tsuna held a small glass vile in his hands.  The vile was filled with a small scrap of fabric and corked tightly.  Any trace of Paulo had disappeared.  Had he teleported again?  No, he was sure the blow from his Big Bang Axel was enough to knock him out at the least.  He rolled the vile around in his gloved palms, puzzled.  _What the hell . . . ?_

“Juudaime!” Gokudera’s familiar voice was heard behind him.  He heard Gokudera’s relived sigh. “You got him, Boss.  Thank goodness.”

“I . . .” He couldn’t quite put things into words.  What did he want to put into words?  He kept staring at the vile as he heard a click behind him and then a shuffle of fabric.  Clacking footsteps came towards him.  He looked behind him to see a now released Fuuta running towards him with tears in his eyes.

“Tsuna-nii!”

“F-Fuuta.” _Something’s wrong.  This is too strange.  Paulo’s dead but . . . what is going on?_   All thoughts he had disappeared for a moment as Fuuta wrapped his thin arms around Tsuna’s chest and began to sob.

“T-Tsuna-nii! Tsuna-nii!” He held him tightly as he cried.  Tsuna could feel him shaking.  Even ten years hadn’t changed the core of his adoptive brother.  He was still clingy, timid and vulnerable deep down.  His X-gloves changed back into their wool mittens as he reached out to pat his head.

“It’s all right, Fuuta.  Everything’s all right now.”

“I’m so glad . . . I’m so glad!” Fuuta wailed.  He looked up at Tsuna, brown eyes glistening with tears.  “I’m so glad you came for me, Tsuna-nii!” 

Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick.  His vision blurred for a moment.  He felt more warmth envelop him; warmth that was not coming from Fuuta.  He felt his own breath start to falter as he looked down.  Fuuta was still there, fluffy brunette head burrowed in his chest.  Below him was a sea of red.  Blood.  In a split second, all the pieces fell together in Tsuna’s mind.  That was his blood.  He’d been stabbed through the stomach.  And the one holding the knife was . . .

“I’m so glad you came for me like I thought you would.” With a sickly noise, Fuuta pulled the knife out of Tsuna’s gut.  Tsuna could hear Gokudera yelling and rushing towards him.  There was gunshot and then a thud as Gokudera fell onto the ground screaming in agony.  He, too, slumped to the floor grasping the wound that was gushing blood.  Clenched teeth kept himself from wasting breath on screaming.  He looked up through fogged vision at him. 

“F-Fuuta . . .”

“You didn’t win, Tsuna.  I had the upper hand the entire time.” It was something out of a nightmare.  Fuuta’s eyes, once wet with tears, now showed neither remorse nor guilt.  His green-and-white striped scarf floated next to him spotted in fresh blood.  He did nothing but stand there, a smoking gun in one hand and a bloodied knife in the other.  Smiling.  “You lost, Tsuna.”

“F-Fuuta . . . b-but . . .”

He bent down in front of the injured Vongola, and laughed.  “How does it feel, Tsuna?  Are you in pain right now?”

“Fuuta . . . this was your trap?”

“The entire time.” He gave him a smile before standing back up and kicking his head to the right side.  Tsuna let out a grunt of pain as the floor connected with his cheekbone.  “I’m glad this all worked out as smoothly as it did!  It was such a hassle to try and act all surprised when we saw the report about Dino’s men.  Pretending to still be your little Fuuta is really annoying.  I’m glad I don’t have to hide it anymore.”  Fuuta glanced back at Gokudera.  “Thank you, Gokudera-kun, for freeing me.  I was afraid Tsuna would figure out before he did.”

“B-Bastard . . .”

Fuuta’s grin widened.  He turned back to Tsuna and stamped his foot onto his hand.  “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten what I wanted; I’m not quite sure what I should do next!  Should I let you bleed to death right here?  Or should I just put you out of your misery?  I can’t decide.  This is such a hard choice!”

“Fuuta . . . why?  W-Why . . .”

“Hah! I knew you’d ask that!” He leaned forward on Tsuna’s hand until he heard a snap and Tsuna whimpering.  “Maybe that’s what I’ll do.  Tell you everything you did wrong before ending your life.  Let you see how much you failed.”  He knelt back down again, lifting Tsuna’s chin off the ground and forcing him to look at his hand.  Through increasing blurs, Tsuna could see it; a ring.  A ring with a large horn-like spine on it emitting Mist Flames. 

“Look, Tsuna.  This is the reason I won the game and you lost.  Paulo was never here.  He was just an illusion stronger than anything Mukuro-sama could ever conjure.  It’s because of this ring.  The Hell ring, Burattinaio.”

“A Hell ring? Fuuta—“

“Shut up, I’m talking.” He slammed Tsuna’s chin into the ground.  “Yes, a Hell ring.  I’ve already used its full powers.  And look, I got exactly what I wanted.  Y’see, I used its powers to create a strong life-like illusion of Paulo Todd just from a bit of his clothing, which was what you saw in that bottle.  It was the perfect person to pin this on.  I pretended to let myself be kidnapped by him and my followers to lure you down here.  As soon as you ‘killed’ it, I didn’t need to make a show anymore.”

“Followers . . . then you are the one leading The Oppressed?”

“Bin-go!” He chimed.  “You’re smart, Tsuna.  I thought I’d have to explain that part to you.”

Tsuna coughed, feeling his blood start to seep towards his face.  “Fuuta . . . why did you do this?  You’ve killed so many people.  I’ve never oppressed you.  The Vongola has never let you suffer.  Why . . .”

“Never let me suffer?  Never oppressed?” There was a dark tone in his voice.  “Never, Tsuna?  Never?  Even after all these years, you’re still so blind.  And all this power has gone to your head.  Listen to yourself.  I was never oppressed?  Did you forget what happened ten years ago when you first took me under your wing?  Back when I was Ranking Fuuta?”

“I . . . I don’t get what you’re saying.”

“Of course you don’t!”  He sprung back up onto his feet, screaming.  “You’ve never gotten anything!  People my entire life would try and exploit me for my power!  I was hunted, stalked, taken advantage of and abandoned by mafia families throughout the world who thought I was nothing more than a tool to help them gain power!  I thought you, the new Vongola Tenth, would realize this and protect me!  But did you protect me, Tsuna?  Do you remember?  Do you remember what you let happen!?”  Tsuna didn’t answer.  Fuuta kicked him in the head again.  “You left me alone!  When Mukuro captured me and tried to force information out of me, you weren’t looking for me!  You were too worried about your stupid friends!  Because of you, I had to keep the Omerta!  It left me powerless!  After that, I was never able to connect with the Ranking Planet again!  My entire reason for living was gone!  And did you care?  Did you do anything like you did for Reborn?  Do you remember now, Tsuna? DO YOU?”

“Fuuta . . .” Croaking, Tsuna tried to force himself to stand up.  “Fuuta, no that’s not what—“

“Shut up!” He kicked Tsuna down again.  His face red with angry tears, he threw the knife aside and pointed the gun at Tsuna’s head.  “I’m done!  I’m done with being oppressed and forgotten!  You were weak like me, you know!  You had plenty of chances to notice how hurt I was and to realize that you were the only person in my life that could help me. But you didn’t!  You ran off to train and things, taking Lambo and I-pin but never me!  I was never important to you!  Only when I was in grave danger did you go out of your way to even help me!  I’ve been ‘missing’ for days, Tsuna!  How come you just realized now that I was gone when you saw me kidnapped?  I’m sick of it!  I’m sick of being thrown under the rug by you!  I’m sick of the Maifa and everything they’ve done to me!”

“Fuuta, please, that’s not how I was –“

The gun cocked.  “SHUT UP!  I don’t want to hear it!  You’ve had plenty of chances!  It’s my turn to be the villain now.”

“Fuuta . . . I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one screamed or whined.  The moment of silence sent chills down Tsuna’s cold body. 

“It’s too late for sorry, Tsuna.”

_Bang!_


End file.
